The combat grounds were open to the sky.

  Yan Qiu followed the other candidates down from the Illusion Pavilion, his legs moving on instinct while his mind was still trapped in the memory of blood and screaming. A stone platform stood at the center of the training ground, surrounded by viewing areas where disciples and elders had gathered to watch.

  About sixty or seventy candidates remained. Some of them could barely walk after the mental trial, stumbling along with pale faces and trembling hands. Others looked eager, finally facing something they understood.

  “Did you see that guy shaking after the illusion trial?” someone whispered nearby.

  “I heard someone screamed inside. Just started screaming and would not stop.”

  “The girl with the calm face came out like nothing happened. How is that even possible?”

  “I just want this to be over…”

  The candidates were directed to wait in groups along the edge of the training ground while the elders prepared the combat platform. Yan Qiu ended up near the pale girl again. She was leaning against a stone pillar with her arms crossed, watching the platform.

  “We keep ending up near each other,” he said.

  She glanced at him. “You are the one who keeps standing where I am.”

  “Maybe you are just in all the good spots.” He grinned. “I am Yan Qiu. From Blackroot, up north.”

  “Jiang Mei.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Far.”

  He waited for more, but she just looked back at the platform. He laughed. “That is not really an answer.”

  “It is the one you are getting.”

  “Fair enough.” He leaned against the pillar next to her. “You came out of the illusion trial like it was nothing. How?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “I knew what I would see.”

  “How?”

  “I just did.” She looked at him sideways. “You did not.”

  He thought about the blood on his hands and the screaming and the name that had echoed through his mind. “No. I did not.”

  She did not ask what he saw. He appreciated that. They stood together and watched the disciples finish preparing the platform, and Yan Qiu found that he did not mind the quiet.

  Elder Bai Yun stood at the edge of the combat grounds and waited for the candidates to gather. When the last of them had arrived, he spoke.

  “The fourth and final trial. Combat.”

  The candidates tensed.

  “You will be paired by draw. One fight each. Winners will receive high marks. Losers will receive low marks. As I said at the beginning, your final acceptance depends on your performance across all four trials, not just this one.” He let that sink in. “A loss here does not mean you have failed. A win here does not mean you have passed. Everything will be considered together.”

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  “So if I lose but did well in other trials…”

  “There is still hope.”

  “The draw begins now.”

  Disciples brought out a wooden box filled with name tablets.

  Names were called in pairs, and candidates stepped forward nervously to face their opponents. Some got lucky and were paired with weaker-looking candidates. Others found themselves facing obvious fighters with broad shoulders and confident stances.

  Jiang Mei fought first. Her opponent was a tall boy with thick arms who charged in with a wide swing that should have knocked her down. She stepped inside his reach before the swing could land, struck him twice in the ribs and once under the jaw, and he dropped before he understood what had happened.

  The crowd went quiet for a moment before the whispers started.

  “Where did she learn to fight like that?”

  “She does not even look strong enough to lift a sword.”

  Yan Qiu caught her eye as she walked off the platform and gave her a nod. She returned it with the faintest tilt of her head.

  A boy in silk robes, the same one who had been bragging about his tutors and complaining about his father throughout the trials, was paired with a big farm boy. Yan Qiu expected the silk-robed boy to fold immediately, but the boy’s technique was actually polished, clearly the product of expensive training. He kept his distance, used proper footwork, and landed two clean strikes before the farm boy closed the gap and caught him with a heavy punch to the jaw.

  The silk-robed boy staggered but stayed on his feet. He wiped blood from his lip, adjusted his stance, and came back in. The farm boy hit harder, but the silk-robed boy was faster and better trained, and he won the match by wearing his opponent down with precise hits to the arms and legs until the farm boy could barely lift his guard.

  “My nose is fine, thank you for asking,” the silk-robed boy announced to nobody in particular as he walked off the platform. A few candidates laughed.

  Yan Qiu watched everything carefully, noting different fighting styles and weaknesses. The innkeeper’s training had taught him to read opponents, and now he was putting it to use.

  “Yan Qiu.”

  He stepped forward.

  “Versus Sun Hao.”

  A boy emerged from the crowd. He was about the same height as Yan Qiu but with broader shoulders and a calm expression. He did not smirk or sneer, just looked Yan Qiu over with measuring eyes and nodded once.

  Yan Qiu nodded back. He studied Sun Hao’s posture, the way he held his weight evenly on both feet, the relaxed set of his shoulders. This one had trained before. The innkeeper’s words echoed in his mind. Watch the shoulders. Watch the hips. The body moves before the fist.

  They stepped onto the platform.

  Sun Hao settled into a proper stance, his hands raised and his weight balanced. A faint shimmer ran across his forearms, and Yan Qiu recognized it immediately. Qi reinforcement. Sun Hao was already channeling energy into his limbs.

  Yan Qiu took a breath and reached inward. He found the bright current in his core and began pushing it outward, down through his arms and into his fists. The technique was still new to him, and holding the qi in place took concentration. He could feel it wanting to scatter, wanting to slip back into his core, and he had to keep a part of his mind focused on maintaining it.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Sun Hao noticed. His eyes flickered to Yan Qiu’s hands, and something like respect crossed his face. “You know reinforcement too.”

  “I learned recently.”

  “Then this should be interesting.”

  Elder Bai Yun raised his hand. “Begin.”

  Neither of them moved immediately.

  They circled each other slowly, each watching for an opening. Sun Hao’s footwork was good, and his eyes tracked Yan Qiu’s movements without blinking. The qi in Yan Qiu’s fists pulsed with each heartbeat, and he could feel the energy draining slowly. He could not hold this forever.

  Sun Hao moved first.

  He stepped forward with a quick jab aimed at Yan Qiu’s face, testing his reactions. Yan Qiu leaned back just enough to let it pass and countered with a punch of his own.

  Their fists met in the air.

  The impact sent a shockwave through Yan Qiu’s arm, and he felt his qi waver for a moment before he steadied it. Sun Hao was stronger. His reinforcement was more stable, more practiced. If this became a contest of raw power, Yan Qiu would lose.

  They separated and circled again.

  Sun Hao came in faster this time, throwing a combination that forced Yan Qiu to block and dodge. Each blocked hit sent vibrations through his arms, and he could feel his qi slipping. He was burning through his reserves too quickly.

  A punch got through his guard and caught him in the ribs. Pain flared through his side, and he stumbled back. Sun Hao pressed the advantage, throwing another punch aimed at his chest.

  Yan Qiu watched the shoulders.

  He saw the slight shift before the punch came and twisted to the side at the last moment. The fist sailed past his face, close enough that he felt the wind of it, and he drove his own fist into Sun Hao’s exposed side.

  The qi-reinforced blow landed solidly, and Sun Hao grunted and backed away.

  They were both breathing harder now.

  Yan Qiu’s qi was running low. He could feel the technique starting to fail, the energy in his fists growing weaker with each passing moment. He had maybe one or two good hits left before he was fighting with nothing but his body.

  Sun Hao seemed to sense it. He came in again, more aggressive now, trying to end the fight before Yan Qiu could recover. His punches were faster and harder, and Yan Qiu found himself on the defensive, blocking and dodging without time to counter.

  A kick caught him in the thigh, and his leg buckled. He went down to one knee.

  The crowd gasped.

  Sun Hao raised his fist for a finishing blow.

  Yan Qiu saw the shoulder drop.

  It was the same tell he had noticed earlier, the slight movement that came before every major strike. Sun Hao was putting everything into this punch, channeling all his remaining qi into his fist for one decisive hit.

  Yan Qiu gathered what was left of his own qi. It was not much, barely a flicker compared to what he had started with, but he pushed it all into his right hand and waited.

  Sun Hao’s fist came down.

  Yan Qiu moved.

  He rolled to the side at the last moment, letting the punch slam into the stone where he had been kneeling. The platform cracked under the impact, and Sun Hao’s eyes went wide as he realized he had overcommitted.

  Yan Qiu was already rising. He drove his qi-reinforced fist into Sun Hao’s stomach with everything he had left.

  The blow lifted Sun Hao off his feet.

  He crashed down onto the stone and did not get up immediately. His chest was heaving and his face was twisted with pain, and when he tried to push himself up his arms shook and gave out.

  Yan Qiu stood over him, his own legs trembling and his qi completely spent. His ribs ached where he had been hit, and his thigh was throbbing from the kick. He was not sure he could have thrown another punch if he needed to.

  Sun Hao looked up at him. For a moment they just stared at each other, both of them exhausted and battered.

  “Yield,” Sun Hao said quietly.

  Whispers rippled through the crowd.

  “Did you see that? He was almost out of qi and still won.”

  “That last hit though. He put everything into it.”

  “Both of them were using reinforcement. That was a real fight.”

  Elder Bai Yun’s eyebrow raised slightly. Elder Shen was smiling.

  Yan Qiu offered his hand to Sun Hao. The other boy looked at it for a moment, then took it and let Yan Qiu pull him to his feet.

  “Good fight,” Sun Hao said.

  “You almost had me with that kick.”

  “Almost does not count.” Sun Hao rubbed his stomach where Yan Qiu had hit him. “That hurt.”

  “You kicked me in the leg first.”

  “Fair.”

  They bowed to each other and then to the elders, and Yan Qiu walked off the platform with his legs shaking and his ribs aching and nothing left in his core. The fight had felt too familiar and too natural. His body had known exactly what to do even when his qi was failing, and he did not understand why.

  The memory of the illusion flickered through his mind. He pushed it down and kept walking.

  The remaining matches finished quickly.

  Yan Qiu found a spot near the edge of the training ground and sat down. Sun Hao walked over after a few minutes, still holding his stomach, and dropped down beside him.

  “You hit hard for a skinny kid,” Sun Hao said.

  “You kick hard for someone who just lost.”

  Sun Hao laughed, then winced. “Do not make me laugh. Everything hurts.”

  Jiang Mei appeared shortly after and sat down nearby. She looked at the two of them, both battered and breathing hard.

  “You both look terrible.”

  “You should see the other guy,” Yan Qiu said, and then pointed at Sun Hao. “He is right here.”

  “I yielded to you and this is how you treat me?”

  The three of them sat together while the last matches played out. Yan Qiu’s body ached and his mind kept circling back to the illusion trial, but the company helped.

  The memory of blood on his hands surfaced again. He let it pass.

  When the last fight ended, Elder Bai Yun addressed the candidates who remained standing.

  “The trials are complete.”

  Everyone went still.

  “Your performances have been recorded. The elders will now deliberate and determine who will be accepted into the Barched Wind Sect.” He paused. “This will take some time. You will wait here.”

  The candidates shifted nervously. Some looked confident, others terrified, and most just looked exhausted.

  The wait felt like hours.

  Finally, Elder Bai Yun returned with several other elders behind him. The candidates scrambled to their feet.

  “The deliberation is complete,” Elder Bai Yun announced. “I will first announce the top five candidates by overall performance, then the remaining accepted disciples.”

  The training ground went silent.

  “First place. Duan Ke.”

  A boy stepped forward from the far side of the crowd. Yan Qiu had not noticed him during the trials, which said something, because the boy had apparently outperformed everyone. He was lean with sharp features and wore clothes that were worn and patched in places. He bowed to the elders without expression and stood where he was directed.

  “Who is that?” Yan Qiu asked quietly.

  “No idea,” Sun Hao said. “I did not see him in any of the trials.”

  “Maybe that is the point,” Jiang Mei said.

  “Second place. Jiang Mei.”

  She stood up from beside Yan Qiu and walked forward. Her face gave nothing away. She bowed and took her place next to Duan Ke.

  “Third place. Yan Qiu.”

  Third.

  He almost did not believe it. Third place. Out of everyone who had come to these trials, out of all the candidates with better resources and better training and families who could afford tutors, he had placed third.

  A grin spread across his face before he could stop it. His legs were shaking as he walked forward, and he did not know if it was from exhaustion or joy. Third place. His parents had sold everything they had, and he had trained until his body broke, and it had worked.

  Elder Bai Yun looked at him for a long moment.

  “Your results are unusual,” the elder said. “Excellent in the stairs. Highest score in spiritual pressure. Your combat showed skill beyond your years.” He paused. “But your mental trial was among the lowest scores of anyone who passed. Your mind is conflicted.”

  Yan Qiu did not know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

  “Overall, your performance is acceptable. Take your place.”

  “Thank you, Elder.” He bowed and walked over to stand beside Jiang Mei.

  “Conflicted mind,” she said quietly. “Sounds bad.”

  “It was.”

  “Fourth place. Sun Hao.”

  Sun Hao walked forward, still holding his ribs, and took his place beside Yan Qiu.

  “I lost to you and still got fourth,” he said. “Not bad.”

  “You did well in the other trials.”

  “Better than you in the mental one, apparently.”

  “Fifth place. Lin Suyin.”

  A girl stepped forward. She was about Yan Qiu’s age, with her hair tied back in a practical knot and dirt under her fingernails. She had a steady way of moving, unhurried and grounded, and she bowed to the elders with the ease of someone who was not trying to impress anyone.

  Elder Bai Yun continued reading names from the scroll. One by one, more candidates stepped forward and were directed to stand on the left side of the training ground. The silk-robed boy’s name was called somewhere in the middle, and he walked forward with his chin raised and his bloody lip already forgotten.

  About forty candidates were accepted in total, less than a quarter of those who had started.

  “Those whose names were not called,” Elder Bai Yun said, “you have not been accepted. You may try again when the next trials open.”

  Some candidates broke down crying while others accepted it quietly and walked away with their heads down.

  Elder Bai Yun turned to the accepted candidates.

  “You are now outer disciples of the Barched Wind Sect. You will be assigned dormitories, given sect robes, and begin your training tomorrow. The top five will receive additional cultivation resources for their first month as recognition of their performance.”

  He let that settle.

  “Do not mistake this for the end of something. It is the beginning. What you did today earned you a place. What you do tomorrow determines whether you keep it.”

  He turned and walked away. The other elders followed, and sect disciples began organizing the new arrivals into groups.

  Yan Qiu stood with the other accepted candidates as disciples handed out assignments. A disciple handed him a wooden token with a number carved into it.

  “Outer disciple quarters. Stone Sparrow Hall, third floor. Find an empty bed.”

  Sun Hao appeared beside him, holding his own token. He looked at Yan Qiu’s.

  “Third floor?”

  Yan Qiu nodded.

  “Same.” Sun Hao grinned. “Good.”

  Other new disciples were heading in different directions with their tokens.

  “You think the seniors will be nice?” Sun Hao asked.

  “Probably not.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “Well, let us go meet them.”